I had applied for tickets on uefa.com the previous March (or whenever they opened the lottery) for both the UEFA Cup and Champions League finals, and got the confirmation mail for the UEFA Cup a few weeks before the final. I live in Dublin, so I booked the flights, and accomodation in a hotel that a friend recommended to me. Can't remember the name of the place, just that it was near the station, just beyond a bridge and had a few steps up to the entrance.
On the day of the match itself, when I landed the road outside the station was thronged with people, everyone was drinking and there was already a build up of rubbish on the street. I passed a Tesco where lads were carrying out slabs of cans. I found the hotel, got checked in and sat at the bar waiting for the kitchen to open to get some lunch. There was a few lads in Rangers jerseys in the bar, and I got chatting to them. Now, I'm an Irish (non practising) Catholic who would watch the odd Celtic game, with a fairly recognisable accent, so when they asked me where I was from, I said Limerick in Ireland, and was in Manchester for an interview the next morning. I played dumb, said I was a rugby fan (which is true) and I didn't watch soccer apart from the odd Ireland game, and didn't know about the game until my brother told me the day before. One of them asked me about Aiden McGeady, and launched into a five minute lecture about how he was a traitor to his nation, and deserved every bit of abuse he got. He finished with "but I don't support Scotland, they're pish, I'm an England fan". Fair enough. To be honest, they were in good spirits, and I didn't get any grief from them. There was about 15-20 of them and not all of them had tickets.
When the kitchen opened, I went into the dining room and sat with a father and son I had talked with at the bar. The dad was a few years older than me, the son was maybe 10 or 11. Both had tickets and were looking forward to it. When I got up to leave, he insisted on paying for my meal, and would only allow me to cover the tip.
A friend of mine from Liverpool had come down to meet me, so we strolled around near the station. He pointed out a few flags that were from firms he knew around Liverpool, but overall the atmosphere was relaxed.
This wasn't my first trip to Manchester, or even the first time I'd been in the Etihad, so I knew my way there. I needn't have worried, the crowds were easy to follow. I did stop a few policemen I passed on the way to ask if there had been any trouble, but each one said it had been fine.
When I got to the stadium, only ticket holders were being permitted beyond the barriers. I had kept mine in my shoe, in case I got mugged for it on the way, and one end had been torn. I held this end in my hand, waved the other end at a steward and got pulled through the crowd. However, the torn end had the barcode on it, which now would not scan. The steward directed me to the ticket office who, on producing a proof of identification, supplied me with a replacement.
By the time I got to my seat, I had missed the kick off and the first few minutes of the game. The Zenit fans had one small corner of the stadium, the rest was all Rangers fans. As you watch the game on TV, I was a few rows up from the corner flag on the far side of the pitch, up from the goals on the left hand side. I don't remember much about the game to be honest, other than Denisov celebrating his goal in front of where I was sitting. I did go looking for a program at half time, but they all appeared to have been sold out.
After the game, there were buses laid on to take us back to the city centre, and I do remember one guy sitting behind me mentioning that something had happened in town. The bus dropped us at Picadilly station, and I walked back to the hotel. There was about 20 guys outside the entrance trying to get in, but the bouncer was only letting residents in. Fortunately, he had been behind the bar earlier, so when he spotted me, he waved me in. The fans from earlier were in the bar, and I did want to tell them I had been to the game, but I had an early start so went up to my room. My phone had died during the game, so when I turned it on, I got about 10 messages from home asking me was I safe, had I avoided the riot? Err, what riot? My brother had sent a text asking was I safe - someone had been stabbed in the stadium!
I had an early flight back to Dublin the morning after, so I left the hotel around 6 and headed up to the station. The road was strewn with rubbish, mainly cans and bottles. When I got to the station, a load of fans were still asleep on the floor. Since it was that early, most of the shops were still closed, apart from a coffee shop that had a lengthy queue coming out of it. The first real indication I had of how bad things had gotten the day before was when I walked out on to the platform, to be greeted by police in full riot gear. It was only when I got back to Dublin, and into work, that I saw some of the photos and reports from the day before. There's one I remember of a policeman being attacked outside one of the pubs I had passed with my friend from Liverpool.
